Contradictions
by Krissy Mae Anderson
Summary: Stuck in a reality that is worse than a nightmare, Luka remembers happy times in his life…
1. 1991 – The End

_"Contradictions" by VjeraNadaLjubav_

**Summary:** Stuck in a reality that is worse than a nightmare, Luka remembers happy times in his life  
**Rating:** PG-13 for language and violence.   
**Disclaimer:** Still not mine after all those years.  
**Acknowledgements:** Thanks to Kendra for prodding me to write something new. I've gotten lazy lately, and after she said she wanted to find out more about Luka's past, the wheels and gears in my brain finally started turning again, although that in itself is a question to be debated. Also, thanks to my roomie Minka, my dear "test-reader" of fics against her will.   
**Author's note: **The flashbacks will alternate with the story in the even chapters. And if you find this chapter to be confusing, do not despair - it is meant to be disjointed and confusing. I am confused myself. I am sick, hot and itchy, and any flames are nothing compared to the Croatian mosquitos. And I am addicted to Turkish coffee, so forgive my insanity. ;-)  
**Author's note part 2:** If you are my regular reader, you know that I suck at posting chapter twos. But hark – chapter two for this is actually in the works.. really.. I mean that. Also, I would have posted this sooner, but there was an Internet outage in the neighborhood where I was staying in Dubrovnik since the construction workers fucked up the phone lines... We still have no free Internet, so I have to use insanely expensive Internet cafes... Also, I found some of the info on the Vukovar Medical Center on a now defunct website - it's a very sad story of brave people who held out to the end... :-(  


Chapter One - "1991 – The End"

"-Luka-"

What do they want from me? I feel asleep but I know that I am awake. Someone gave me a sedative and I feel lethargic, incredibly tired yet unable to sleep. I wonder why they gave me the sedative. I wonder who they are. I am so confused. Why do I need to go outside when it is so warm under the blanket?

"We need to go." I know this man, but I can't remember his name now. He's a doctor too, he works in pediatrics, I think. He might work in surgery for all I know. I stare at him and wonder why we have to go. He realizes that I am not very coherent and talks slowly, so I can understand.

"I am Drago. Remember me, Luka?" I nod my head, although I don't really remember him. Drago asks me where my coat is. I don't really know. Drago looks around and locates it under the bed. I stare at my sneakers. The left one has a hole in the toe and I can see my sock. I need new shoes. I need a lot of new clothes – my jeans ripped in several places, and my sweater is unwinding because it has a hole in it. Drago finds one more sweater, and makes me put it on, then tells me to put on my lab coat, which is dirty and torn, and then helps me to put on my coat. After he is finished helping me dress, he starts putting things in my pockets – a couple of cigarettes wrapped in a napkin into one, some aspirin into other, a roll of bandages, small things that are not conspicuous if found in one's pocket. 

After he is done hiding things in our clothes, Drago helps me up from the bed and we walk somewhere. I have no idea why I am so weak. I remember that I got a light shrapnel wound two days ago. Maybe that's why I'm sedated. I think I didn't sleep for about a week before I got wounded. Someone stitched up the wound, and must have given me the sedative. I think I've slept since the day before yesterday, whichever that day was. And now we are going somewhere, passing empty beds and overturned chairs, our steps echoing in the dreadful silence that seems almost unnatural to my ears after many months of almost constant shelling. This must be the end. The only question in my mind is how many hours I have left to live – I don't particularly want to be alive, but it's still nice to know how long one has left to live. 

We walk outside, and I almost stumble when I see the sun – I haven't been outside for a week, and my eyes have grown used to the dim lighting. The situation looks like a barely controlled chaos. Trucks and buses are standing next to military vehicles, patients and medical personnel are mixed, all confused, afraid and tired, surrounded by healthy, well-fed soldiers who pretend not to notice how exhausted and pale their captives look. We are told to go in a different direction from the nurses walking right before us, and walk there, until we come to a young man barely out of his teens, dressed in military fatigues and a semiautomatic slung over his shoulder. A man I remember from the hospital stands next to him and points at certain people. He points at Drago and me as well, and we are told to go to the right, to a bus without a destination, or maybe a final destination for all of its passengers. 

When it is my turn to get on the bus I feel dizzy and nearly stumble, but Drago grabs my elbow just in time, and we manage to get into the bus before my legs give out. Drago nearly drags me to a seat in the back of the bus, and while more people get into the bus, he unbuttons my coat and pulls up my sweater to look at the long scrape going down my stomach. I look down at it myself, and in my fuzzy mind, I feel somehow disappointed that the fate missed me again. It's going to leave one hell of a scar, that's for sure. Beside it, I can barely make out a faint scratch that I got two weeks ago from falling on a broken bottle.

"It's healing well. If I am not going to be with you, remember to take the stitches out in a week." I am very thankful to fate that Drago has enough strength to help me, because I feel useless and slow, and I hope that I can repay him somehow. Now that I am not as sluggish, I know who Drago is – a new doctor, just started his internship in surgery this year. He didn't get what he bargained for, that's for sure. By now, both of us can probably operate blindfolded with one hand tied behind the back and standing on one leg – we have had experience to last us a lifetime. If I get out of this alive, maybe I'll stop being a doctor, get some new job, one that involves little to no blood. I think I've seen enough blood for a lifetime too. Maybe go back to the university, become a science teacher, and forget everything about the wasted years, start a new life and remember the old one on cold rainy days...

One of the soldiers on the bus waves to someone and the unseen driver closes the door. The bus engine rumbles and soon, the ruins of the hospital disappear behind the corner. I press my face to the glass and stare at the ruined streets as pass by. The bus moves slowly, because the road is covered with bricks and full of people with suitcases, some wearing winter jackets over their pajamas, their faces gray and scared. At one intersection, the bus comes to a halt and one of the soldiers jumps out to talk to an officer standing by a burned out store. I stare at the people moving by, exhausted women carrying backpacks laden with family photos and winter clothes, clutching the hands of their sleepy children. A little girl walks after her mother, who has her hands full with a baby and a heavy suitcase. I know this little girl well – I treated her for compound fracture of her leg last year, and she remembers me well, despite being so young. Her name is Lara, and she calls me "Doctor Luka." Lara's curly hair is not brushed and sticks out in every possible direction and her brother's jacket too big for her, almost reaching to the ground. Lara looks up just as she and her mother are passing the bus, and recognizes me, her face brightened by a smile.

"Doctor Luka!" she shrieks and runs towards the bus in her innocence, not understanding that there is war, or that there is a barrier separating us. A soldier hurries to her side and grabs her, holding her in the air, asking loudly – "Whose child?" Lara starts crying, trying to get out of his arms and looking at me, screams my name, holding her hands out to me, not understanding why she can't go and ask me for candy. Her mother, Lidija drops the suitcase and runs to reclaim Lara, her baby now also crying. Lara kicks her feet out, trying to get the soldier to release her, but he holds on to her, his face expressionless as he stares at a small girl in an oversized jacket crying in his arms. He sees Lidija, yells something at her and puts Lara down. As soon as Lara is set down on earth, she attempts to go to the bus again, but Lidija grabs on to her hand and almost drags her away, looking at me sorrowfully, the absence of her son and husband saying it all.

I watch Lidija struggle with a suitcase and two crying children on a brick-covered street while an indifferent officer in a brand new uniform looks on, unable to help her, unable to help myself, and feel awful – broken, exhausted, washed out. I slump forward, lean my head against the seat and let myself cry. Drago grasps my shoulder and asks me what is wrong, but I don't answer, and just sob quietly into the dirty fabric of the seat in front of me, wanting to fall asleep and never wake up again, or wake up to find out that all of this had been merely a dream. Drago squeezes my shoulder, and I look up to see tears rolling down his face as well. I follow his gaze and see the buildings burning – everything is burning, my life is burning, my past is burning, and perhaps my future is burning too.

The soldier climbs back on the bus and it slowly drives off again. He walks down the center of the bus, his young face hardened and cold, writing down names on a piece of paper. He stops next to our seat. Drago mutters: "Doctor Dragomir Meinl and Doctor Luka Kovac." The young man writes it down and proceeds down the aisle. I stop crying and just stare at my knees, at the strangely out-of-place tear on the knee that reminds me of my youthful taste in clothes, which my mother described as "caught under lawnmover," since everything I wore was fashionably ragged...

The loud, continuous beeping of a horn distracts me from contemplating my life story and I look up just to see a burning car that looks exactly like the one Janko used to own. Although I know that Janko is many kilometers away and is safe, I can't help but worry about him. We used to be inseparable, Janko and I but now I am far, far away from him, and have no idea if I ever will see him again...

**to be continued**


	2. 1984 – The Beginning

Chapter Two - "1984 – The Beginning" * * *

My tie is strangling me and my pants seem to be a size too small. I am a married man. I have no idea how to feel. Danka looks magnificent in her grandmother's wedding dress, her veil slightly askew and the smile on her face makes me feel high faster then any drug. I kiss her, wanting to never stop, but my watch catches on her hair and I have to stop to untangle it. Her hair, her long beautiful hair, so soft in my hand. I feel so incredibly confused and completely in love with the gorgeous, smart and incredible woman who is my wife and I can barely wait to be alone with her. But we have to wait for whole eight hours, and right now it seems like an eternity. 

Everything seems strangely fairytale and ethereal, and I feel like I will burst from happiness, die from the happiness alone without experiencing what I know is to come this evening. Interrupting my quite arousing fantasy involving me, Danka and no clothes, my mother embraces me, her mascara smudged by the happy tears. I blush and readjust my pants while she's not looking down.

"My little Luka, getting married!" she exclaims before a renewed stream of tears flows down her face. Her description of me as her "little Luka" is somewhat outdated, since she doesn't even reach my shoulder, but I guess I'll be forever little for her. My father appears from the crowd and embraces me, overcome with joy – after all, I am the first son to be married, first one who will probably pass on the Kovac name. 

"Congratulations, son." I just nod to him, too overcome with the moment to talk. He moves on to Danka and kisses her on the cheek. She returns the kiss and bows a little.

"I'm honored to be your daughter," she says and he almost glows with pride and happiness.

"And I am honored too, my dear. Janko is waiting over there to drive you both to the restaurant." He points to the curb, where Janko's red Volkswagen is parked somewhat illegally. We fight our way to Janko's car and get in. Janko leans back, lipstick on his ear, and kisses Danijela, then kisses me. I kiss him back, and we exchange backslaps that leave us both slightly breathless. We feel a bit overcome by emotions and Janko blurts "Fuck you, little brother, you know how to pick women," before kissing me again. 

Janko smells like cigarettes and French perfume of the owner of the lipstick on his ear, and the feeling of the absurd, ethereal happiness returns again. Janko carefully steers the car out of the crowd of friends and relatives, and soon we are on the way to the restaurant where there is much drinking, eating and dancing to be done by our relatives and friends on our behalf. 

We slowly ride through Zagreb, the cars of the wedding party reminding us of their existence by energetic honking. Janko is not be outdone and presses so hard on the horn we are afraid that we will go deaf before we get to the restaurant. The cars driving in the opposite lane join in the congratulations, and soon all we can hear is a continuous honk from several dozens of horns. A girl sticks her head out of a car window and screams to me: "Is your brother single, sexy?" Janko replies in the affirmative and shouts his phone number to her. The girl blows him a kiss and lays on the horn, joining in the congratulatory noise. I blush slightly and Danka laughs, giving me a kiss that makes me immediately forget about the girl.

As we arrive, the after-wedding party is already looking like a small riot. It seems that every single living relative on both sides of both families is here, from young to old. I shudder slightly when I am almost attacked by a group of Danka's adoring aunts, and escape them just to fall into clutches of my own Teta Marija, who embraces me and drones on about children. I find a polite excuse and join Danka at the table, and we burst out laughing when we take in each other's hassled facial expressions. 

"Where they talking to you about children as well, Danka?" I ask after I stop laughing.

"Yeah. But they probably were not giving you advice on childbirth. Teta Milka decided to read me a lecture on it..." I shudder slightly and she winks at me, pointing at someone behind me. 

"Be on alert – my Baka Lela is heading this way and you know how she loves her granddaughter's "little" boyfriend…." Before I can escape a dusty candy is thrust into my hand and Danka's grandmother is making goo-goo eyes at me. I am definitely going to revenge myself for this….

A half an hour later, the polite dinner talk has degenerated into several conversations in several different languages and dialects that are becoming quite heated. I am talking to my cousin Floriana in a mix of Italian and Croatian about my plans of going to medical school, with my Baka Judita in Split dialect about the same and switching between several other dialects in order to answer the numerous questions posed by the horde of relatives. From our conversation an outsider would guess that my relatives are seeing me for the first time in their lives, but actually, most of them have run into me in the last month. All of this really gives me a good mental picture of what Babylon must have been like before the division of languages...

My father whistles to attract everyone's attention, and when everyone does not quiet down, Dina yells "Shut up!" so loudly that someone's grandmother falls off a chair. The relatives quiet down and stare at him, some taking this opportunity to dig into the food. 

"We are gathered here today to celebrate the marriage of Luka and Danijela," my father starts, smiling nervously at the ravenous crowds in front of him. "I propose a toast – let us drink for the newlyweds, and wish them a long, happy life together."

Everyone drinks to that, and then to our future children, our children's children, our parents, our wedding night, our honeymoon and so on, until everyone is more than somewhat tipsy and 100 liters of wine are gone along with several good-sized hams. After that, everyone starts dancing, or rather jumping around happily to the energetic music played by the band. My grandfather Hrvoje is dancing with my niece Kristijana, who is frowning at him, probably itching from her formal dress. Janko's doing some kind of obscene movements with a blonde in a short skirt over in the corner and my father and my mother are holding hands and looking at each other, smiling.   
The band plays away, and I drag Danka into the crowd of swirling bodies. She laughs and throws her shoes off, and we dance among our relatives, feeling as though we are alone together and no one else can see us, feeling insanely happy, naïve and wise at the same time. Everything is before us -

- after all, we do have all the time in the world, don't we?

* * *


	3. 1991 – Despair

_A/N – All further events in the story are based on my own imagination, as well as some research. I do not wish to imply anything about anyone in the 1991 conflict or any conflict thereafter. I have friends from many places in the former Yugoslavia– from cities moderately affected by the wars, like Zagreb, Dubrovnik, Belgrade and Novi Sad, and those more severely affected, such as Vukovar, Gorazde and Sarajevo. All of them are very nice people. Some have been able to forgive, some haven't. _

_I feel that there have been assholes one every side of the conflict. Some sides had more, some less. But there were also people who did not hate, who saw the madness for what it was. It is to the survivors and to those people that I want to say how much I respect them. _

Chapter Three - "1991 – Despair

I think I will hate corn if I will remain alive to see it again. I have seen enough cornfields in the last couple of days to last me a lifetime. They were not the vibrant green I remember them to be, but an ugly grayish yellow, almost melding into the gray winter sky that looms over everything. The dark gray clouds cover the weak winter sun, and everything is bleak, just like our future. It is at times like these that you become aware that your future becomes drastically short, and you are not sure if it will last one year or one minute. This kind of outlook doesn't do much to improve your worldview, I might add, as you're spending all of your time hoping that you will live long enough to go to sleep and wake up the next day.

I've become more lucid and aware of my surroundings, although I'd rather preferred being drugged up. I don't have any painkillers and my belly feels like someone has been stabbing me with a scalpel all day. I've resorted to chewing on the sleeve of my coat to stop myself from screaming. My coat tastes like stale bread. I got hungry yesterday and ate a chewing gum wrapper and an aspirin. It helped a bit. They let us out of the bus for ten minutes an hour ago and after me and Drago took care of business, as someone called it in some American movie, we stuffed some corn leaves in our pockets to chew on later. 

The soldiers on the bus have changed, and now the man in charge is a perversely cheerful major who lets people talk when he is in a good mood. But if he's in the bad mood, you'd better not breathe. He got some bad news from some soldiers who waved us down, and when someone in the front sneezed he hit the man in the face with his gun so hard he broke his nose. But later the major drank some alcohol and ate a sandwich, and was in such a good mood that he let me take a look at the man. 

The man turns out to be a kid barely out of school. His face is covered with blood and he has been trying not to cry and failing. I squeeze in between him and the guy sharing the seat with him and take a look. On the first glance it doesn't look too bad, because the nose is still mostly pointing the right way, and as my sister the nurse would say, if it's still attached, it won't fall off.

What's your name? I whisper, palpating his face. Thankfully, he'll be okay. Perhaps he's going to have a crooked nose but the facial bones are not fractured, so he is no immediate medical danger.

he gets out shakily, sounding just like a scared young kid he is. I manage not to shiver when I hear my son's name.

I'm Luka. You'll be fine. Does it hurt when you try to breathe through your nose?

A liddle bid... He tries to do it but winces, blood gushing from his nose again and soaking the chewed-up sleeve of my coat. I find a handkerchief in my pocket and give it to him to hold against his nose to stop the fow of blood. While the soldiers are not looking, I slip an aspirin tablet into his hand and check his teeth just in case. All of them are thankfully there, so he's definitely going to be fine.

Swallow the aspirin and try to breathe through your nose occasionally. If you have trouble breathing, tell it to me or Drago there later. We're both doctors. Marko nods and grasps my hand with his own, shaking it weakly. I attempt a smile, let the soldier in front of the bus know that I am done and walk back to my seat. I sit down next to Drago, who's been poking a hole in the seat in front of him to pass time.

How's the guy? he asks, continuing the destruction of the seat.

He'll live. I think he has a simple nasal fracture that'll heal on its own, more or less." Drago makes a sound I interpret as "good," and I sit back and watch the hole in the seat grow bigger and bigger. The bus continues on its way into nowhere, and soon it becomes dark outside. The silence in the bus is interrupted by stifled coughs and sniffles - half of us are not even wearing seasonal closing, so many managed to get sick already. I lean my head on Drago's shoulder and try to get comfortable, which is hard, since Drago's just as tall and skinny as I am. He tries to put his head on my shoulder at that moment and we manage to knock our heads together.

Are you trying to knock my teeth out? he wonders out loud and I roll my eyes. After some repositioning, I close my eyes and try to fall asleep. The bus continues to drive deep into the maze of cornfields, and I am left to wonder how long I have to live. The bus can stop at any time, and the cheerful major can take great pleasure in shooting us one by one. I wonder if the bus will ever stop, or if we will go on forever through gray cornfields, never stopping, going in an never-ending circle, a merry-go-round of purgatory on earth. 

We spend the night dozing off and jerking awake every time the bus slows down. I manage to fall asleep towards the morning, but just as I am dreaming of swimming in the sea on a hot day, the bus jerks to a stop and I wake up. The cheerful major is still cheerful this morning. Two young men with semiautomatics command everyone to get off the bus, and we stumble outside, greedily breathing in cold winter air. More soldiers arrive, and we are ordered to walk into a building. I follow Drago and we walk quietly with our hands clasped behind our heads until we reach a door where a young soldier motions us to step inside a room. After several more men come in, the soldier shoves in a bucket and a bag, and leaves, locking the door.

There is eight of us in the room. I recognize Marko, the kid with the broken nose who has my son's name, but don't know the other ones. We introduce ourselves and start talking, trying to quell our fears by forming some sort of relationship with the others who are stuck in the same circle of hell. Most of us are in our twenties – only Marko and Mile are not. The twins Kristijan and Marijan are not sure where their sister is. Marko's parents are dead. Only Bojan and Mile will have a place to live in Vukovar if we ever leave here. Drago and Branko have family elsewhere and they are worried about their parents, trying to forget about themselves. I worry along with them – my mother must be scared to death. We open the bag and find some bread and a bottle of water inside and eat listlessly, thinking the same damned thoughts that kept us awake last night - will this be our last meal? is this our last evening? will we wake up tomorrow?

Soon, the night comes again, and we try to make ourselves comfortable. It is cold in the room, and so we lie down in the corner opposite from the window and try to sleep, but none of us can, so we just lie there, staring at the ceiling and wondering what will happen to us. Marko is crying, trying to stifle his sobs and failing, and I begin to cry too, because I cannot understand why this is happening or what I am being punished for. What have I done to deserve this? I cover my face with my hands and continue to cry silently, wondering if I am ever going to run out of tears. I think I have cried more in the last two weeks than I did in my entire life before that. I try to think of good things to stop the tears, and think of Goga, Stipe, me, and Tomo on a road trip, but this memory just makes me realize that another road trip like that will perhaps never be possible again...

_to be continued..._


	4. 1990 – Happiness

Chapter Four – "1990 – Happiness"

It is so hot that even the dogs have stopped barking and crawled into the shade. The people would very much like to follow their example, but unlike dogs, people have to work, so they grudgingly perform their duties and stare at the clock, trying to make time go faster. Still, some people, like my new friends and I, sunbathe on the roof of the hospital since there was no surgery scheduled today and the intern coordinator cannot think of looking on the roof for the missing interns. After baking on the roof for several hours while imbibing warm beer and snacking on someone's homemade sausage, I decide to sneak off and go home, since no work is getting done anyway from all the heat, and all the nice, sensible people are staying at home and not providing study material for slightly crispy surgery interns. Anyway, my shift is almost over as well...

Waving goodbye to my fellow work skippers, I sneak out of the hospital, almost running into the coordinator but diving into an empty room just in time, extract my bicycle from the bushes and head towards the kindergarten to pick up Jasna early and have a family day. The engine on our car blew two weeks ago, so I have been taking Danka's bicycle to work, which has probably been a good thing – I still need to work off all the food and booze at several parties I attended before going to Vukovar along with Marko's baptism celebration and the going away party our best friends threw for us. I make a turn, wave at a neighbor of ours and her husband who smile and wave back, and think with a bit of sadness that this is the first summer in a while I will be spending without Gordana, Stipe and Tomo. We always found something crazy to do during the summer that served as conversation fodder for the rest of the year – our road trip to Vukovar last year is still considered legendary among the masses. Oh well, we actually have real jobs now, however pretend they might seem, and that means we have to begin to lead our own lives and start different traditions.

I almost zoom past Jasna's kindergarten and only manage to stop with vigorous application of brakes. Leaning my bike against the tree, I walk inside and ask Marina, who is in charge today, where Jasna is to be found. Marina says that it would probably be the playroom and stares at me oddly. I look down on myself and understand the cause of the odd look. A bare chest, blue swimming trunks, and a lab coat over them with an addition of purple flip-flops definitely make a fashion statement rarely seen by the kindergarten teachers on the parents of their charges. I proceed to the playroom, where little boys and girls are playing with various toys, and am immediately tackled by Jasna, who grabs my leg with all of her considerate strength and begins to chatter a mile a minute about her day so far. I walk out of the playroom with Jasna attached to my leg, notify her and Marina that we are going home early, pick up her bag from the shelf and proceed outside, with my outfit now appended by a five-year old in a pink dress on my leg. It is amazing that Jasna can almost reach my waist now – she's going to be tall, just like me, Danka says – because I still remember when she was Marko's size and was barely as long as half of my arm. Seeing the bike, Jasna releases my leg, and I sit her down on the bag rack, and get on the bicycle myself. She grabs onto my lab coat, and we are off on our way home. Since all the sensible drivers are sitting at home drinking various cold beverages or swearing at their overheated engines, the streets are almost empty, and ten minutes later, we are on our street.

I am quite glad that we finally have our own place. Right now, while it is hot, we mostly live in Danka's grandmother's small house next to a cornfield, but we will go back to live full-time in our apartment in the center of the city when the summer will be over. Going from two tiny rooms in different parts of the city to a house and an apartment has been quite dizzying and satisfying. We are hoping to build a small house in several years when we have saved enough money, or maybe build onto Baka Ana's house. It is further away from the hospital then our apartment, but it is not like Vukovar is a metropolis – I can get to work from here in twenty minutes at most, and that is when there is actual traffic. I turn onto a little path that leads to the house, pass our dead car, and stop near a huge tree that towers over the house. Danka is on the porch of her grandmother's house, knitting something unidentifiable while Marko sleeps like a rock in his crib beside her. She has got a job working at the radio station starting in September, which she is really happy about – the extra money in the fall will help with the expenses. She looks up from the mysterious garment and waves to us. We disembark the bicycle and head to the porch – actually, I head to the porch while Jasna skips there. She gives Danka a kiss, and then it is my turn, and it is a very nice kiss indeed. When we part Jasna rolls her eyes and I can't help but laugh.

"So, how was your day, my dear wife?" I enquire, sitting down in a chair beside her.

"The usual – Marko woke up, Marko ate, Marko fell asleep, I knitted, Marko woke up, Marko ate, Marko fell asleep, I knitted, and then my handsome husband and my beautiful daughter came back home earlier then usual, not that I am complaining. Do you think we should have a picnic to celebrate?" She puts down the knitting, and smiles at me.

"You read my mind," I say, quite ready for a family outing. We've been so busy since we came here we haven't had any family outings, and a picnic sounds just perfect. "I'll go make some sandwiches and try to find our picnic blanket-"

"-while I try to find the swimming suits, children's toys and get the kids changed," Danijela finishes for me, and we share another of the kisses Jasna finds yucky. After that, we go to attend to the picnic preparation tasks. I locate our old picnic blanket, put it on the chair and make some sandwiches with sausage, pour some juice in a thermos, tie all of this into a bundle and emerge onto the porch again, where Danka and the kids are assembled already, waiting for me. I tie the picnic bundle to the front on the bicycle, and get on, hoping that it won't detach on the way to the river. Danka sits down on the pile of towels that she has put on the back of the bicycle, secures Marko to herself with a big scarf and then Jasna climbs between us. The bicycle creaks under our combined weight, but it is built like a tank and won't fall apart any time soon, so I push off and we fly down the street, barely escaping collision with various sleepy dogs, slow-moving grandmothers and misplaced flowerpots. We call out an occasional greeting as we zoom by people from work or other parents from kindergarten, while trees and buildings become one big blur until we get to the Danube and I stop the bike. We unload, and while Danka puts some towels on the grass for us to sit on, I unpack the bundle with food.

After everything is in order and Marko is happily napping in the shadow of a tree, we have lunch, after which I decide to stretch a bit and walk to the water's edge to take a look at the river. Danube's not the cleanest river ever, but I've swam in it before and nothing has fallen off. Just as I am about to turn around, someone pushes me from behind, I lose my balance and fall into the water with a loud splash. When I surface a bit downstream, and spit out a mouthful of the river, my wife and my daughter are looking far too innocent to be truly innocent. I retaliate by getting out of the river, picking up a laughing Danka, dangling her over the river and letting go of her, and she pushes me in as soon as she gets out. This repeats several times, with Jasna playing the role of a delighted spectator who goads on whichever one of us that is pushing the other one in. When she deems that we should do something else, we stretch out on the blanket and play cards until Jasna begins to feel sleepy and joins her brother in the shadow. After constructing a towel tent over the sleeping kids, we sit down on the stone parapet and dangle our feet in the water. I put an arm around my wife and we just sit there, looking at the sun sparkling on the water, and I feel so very happy. I have everything that I want right now, and I would not give it up for anything. I kiss Danka lightly on the cheek and she turns her face to me. I can see the love in her eyes, and I am even more in love with her, if it is possible.

"I will love you forever," I say.

"Forever," she echoes, and we kiss.


End file.
